Atrisia
by Ivory Chopstick
Summary: “Stick to three concepts. You can’t help everyone. You can’t change everything. Not everyone is going to love you.” A fanfic from Knights of the Old Republic II: Sith Lords
1. kolto

_The_ _shadows descended upon her, icy tendrils of pure black eating away at her flesh and driving away her sanity. She could hear her heart pounding faster and faster in her ears as the darkness engulfed her. _

_It was too strong, too powerful, too knowing of her fear. Steadily, the pressure against her windpipe increased. The black, bitter nothingness crushed her senses and drew the air from her lungs. Her heart rate slowed. She would die._

_The darkness spoke to her in a voice of charcoal:Awake.:_

She felt the Bacta drain away from her body and the warmth was replaced by the cold, sterile floor of… someplace. The room was simple and circular, filled with powder-blue kolto tanks and hygienic metal paneling.

"Where—" Racking coughs shook Mærin as her body rid her lungs of excess kolto. She left the transparent blue mess on the floor of what she supposed was the medical bay. Willing her aching body to stand up, she noticed others in the kolto tanks. Their features were peaceful, but they showed no signs of movement. There were vaguely familiar, but Mærin couldn't understand why. She turned away from kolto tanks, and her thoughts of the serene individuals were pushed into the corner of her mind.

She felt as if a rancor had sat on her and covered her body with tender purple bruises even though her skin was unmarked. A pitiful hobble was all she could manage to get herself into the next room, where a man lay on a hygienic metal table. His skin was drawn and pale, and his eyes no longer held light.

"May the Force keep you as this life could not." she whispered, bidding his spirit farewell and took his weapon as politely as one could steal from a corpse. She turned to walk into the hall when another body caught her eye. It was a woman, her face was lined with age and her long, braided hair shaded silver. A worn brown cloak hid the rest of the body from Mærin's sight, but she had no wish to disturb the dead any longer.

Mærin turned toward the computer with her newly acquired shock stick in hand and accessed the mainframe, turning the machine's blank screen into a welcoming ultramarine. She poured through files, searching for information.

"Peragus Mining Station…" she murmured, brushing her short-layered hair out of her eyes before plunging into the camera database. The woman frowned. There had been no organic movement recorded in any of the main rooms and hallways for three days.

_Only mining droids… But on the administration level? _ She called up the monitor of the prison and drew a sharp intake of breath. A person. Secluded in a small room, he held pazaak cards in his hands as he sat, cross-legged, on the metal floor of his containment cell. His dark brown eyes, partially covered by unruly hair, displayed pure boredom. His practical clothes were disheveled, but through their rumpled state Mærin could detect a muscular build. _Admiring men through a camera… I've stooped to a new low._

The computer offered no new information and the woman was left with no choice but to search for the lone pazaak player. She looked wistfully back at her empty kolto tank and wished she was still floating within it, healed and unworried.

☫


	2. pazaak

Food…

Water…

Sex…

Three things he had gone without for days. The last, well, he hadn't had any of _that _for weeks. He hadn't really kept track. He'd guess about three weeks, five days, six hours and forty-five minutes. That was estimate anyway. It felt like a whole hell-of-a-lot longer. Food had stopped coming a few days ago and he hadn't had any water for a bit less than twenty-three hours. He was suffering. In a containment cell – for what? A petty crime people got overly worked up about.

But damn, being arrested was boring. There was nothing to do but to count the rivets on the ceiling and play pazaak with himself. It got old fast. The only stimulation he got was sticking a finger in the electric field to get that quick jolt of pain to shoot through his system and the minor burn. The glittering electric field sparked, as if welcoming the idea of torturing him.

He had a feeling that his finger would remain scarred forever. But hey, the ladies liked scars, right? He'd get the whole hot-macho-hero-thing going… if only on his right index finger.

Thinking of women led to his lack of sex and that led him to thinking of—

The doors to the prison opened, revealing a scantily clad woman. Short blonde hair, dark blue eyes, and a body that would put a twi'lek bar dancer to shame – something out there must like him. A _lot._ Ironically, this was the exact rescue party he had planned.

"Wow - since when did the miners get new uniforms?" She rolled those gorgeous blue eyes at him.

"I'm not a miner. And please address my face when you talk to me." Ouch. The rescue… wasn't going to plan.

"I'm Atton Rand. Sorry if I don't shake hands – the field only causes minor burns." The woman brushed a stray hair out of her eyes.

"Call me Mærin. What are you doing here?"

"They threw me in jail for some reason. Trumped up charges really – they had no proof!"

"Alright, alright. Don't hurt yourself. What happened here? Where is everyone?" She looked worried and a bit more worn out than when she walked through the door.

"I have no idea. They stopped feeding me shortly after they stopped talking to me – now that's criminal! Anyway, there was some panic about a Jedi being onboard – wait. _You're _the Jedi, aren't you?"

"I'm not a Jedi any longer."

_I didn't know that it was a job you could quit… "_Anyway, since Revan's deal I guess they got anxious. She was one angsty chick. After Malak betrayed her, she went all out on him."

"She killed Malak for the Republic – and it was only because he wouldn't turn from the darker path." Her tone had softened and quieted

"Still, I heard that nothing and no one stood in her way. That just goes to show you what an imbecile Malak was. You'd have to be an idiot to cross a woman, especially a dark Jedi, because they tend to get a little crazy in the revenge thing – no offense." She smiled half-heartedly.

"None taken. Have you heard anything about the sedatives on the miners?"

_What is this woman talking about?_

"I—what?"

"Never mind. Just asking." Her eyes darkened with…something. Uh-oh. What did he say?

"Listen, as much as your half-naked interrogation is fulfilling my darkest fantasies, I'd kinda like to get out now."

She laughed. It was a nice sound, and it lit up her whole face. "Right. Come on, follow me."

Atton wasn't about to complain.

-

Mærin led him to the main computer under the huge flickering facility map. The window behind it was huge, giving the pair a glimpse of the glittering stars and the broken Peragus planet. Atton turned his attention to the computer and grinned.

"Pure pazaak. I'll have a ship ready to leave in—damnit! The whole station's on lockdown with no reversal. Something about the main hub being severed…"

The woman frowned. "That's not standard procedure."

Atton glanced up at her. "No, it's definitely not. And it makes everything a bigger pain in the ass. We don't have a way out."

"There has to be _some _way. Here, I'll check the rooms for anything we could use."

Atton sighed angrily. "Be my guest." He watched as she scanned the rooms, and he began to lose hope until her eyes lit up. She beamed up at him.

"T3-M4 is near the _Ebon Hawk_. If he can open some of the fields for us, we'll be home free!" It couldn't be happening. They were going to trust a _droid?_

"A utility droid?" he groaned. "This can't be good." But she had stopped listening to him in favor of the trash-compactor-on-wheels on the other line.

She swore. "I lost the connection. The droid mentioned something about the mine shafts though…"

_Has she lost her mind?_

"Are you trying to tell me that you're going to get to the hangar by going through the _mine shafts? _You're either crazy, brave, or both."

She grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment. Listen, it's our only choice. You can stay up here, just in case—"

"—Just in case you don't make it. Right. There's only droids down there because of some explosions earlier, so don't go overboard with the heroics and get yourself killed. I mean…because I don't want to have to get off this station alone." Mærin nodded. And, unexpectedly, leaned up and kissed him.

"For what you've missed while you were in jail."

He was stunned. "How did you—" But she was already running off to the mine shafts.

Yeah, something out there _really _liked him.


	3. mineshafts

There were no psychotic droids to greet her. Only a dingy mining uniform and the cool, stale air beneath the asteroid's surface. Atton's voice came ringing through the static of her comlink.

"How are you doing down there? Any luck?"

"I'm fine – I found some clothes." She could hear vehement swearing. "Sorry, didn't catch that."

"Er, nothing. No, the clothes are good – they'll protect you from the worst of the heat. Listen, I'm picking up signals that aren't… completely positive."

Mærin grimaced, glancing around at the jagged faces of grey rock around her."What's the problem?"

"There are a lot of droids. And by a lot I mean a battalion. The last explosion stirred up heat and dust, so they're less likely to see you, but I'd still be wary. They're all mining droids, which means that the guns on their heads aren't strong. Personally, I'd just go electric stick on their shiny metal asses and make them all scrap right there. But that's me. If you can find a shield, use it for the huge hoards of them, but it'll only work for a limited amount of time."

"That's always what I want to hear. Anything else?"

"Yeah, one more thing: I missed a lot morein prison than a peck on the lips." Mærin smirked in doubt. "I sincerely doubt it Atton. Over and out." The next set of doors opened with a jolt and a wall of heat and smoke hit Mærin straight in the face. She reeled haphazardly through the doors to face exactly what Atton had predicted: a battalion of angry mining droids. The passage narrowed and dust clouded her vision as she charged her attackers. Small spherical droids hovered around her, heightening her sense of claustrophobia. She didn't spare them a second glance until she realized that they were repairing their larger counterparts. Mærin swiftly took the maintenance droids out with a blaster and finished the last of the miner droids easily.

The tunnel led into a huge vaulted antechamber. Mærin breathed in relief and marveled at the sheer amount of rock that had been cut away – its solemn grayness stretched endlessly into the shadows above her.

She walked out to the computer in the center of the room with caution, on edge for any droids that might have been lurking. It was too quiet.

Mærin pushed her suspicions aside as she turned to the console and beamed at the results. The droids on the level were put out of commission and the shields that once blocked her way were down.

"Uh, Mærin, I'm picking up some bad signals up here." Atton's voice came crackling from her comlink. His dark hazel eyes held concern, but whether it was for her or the mission, Mærin couldn't tell. She sighed.

"Whatever's wrong, it's probably my fault."

"Yeah, that's what I figured. It's going get extremely hot – if you don't get out of there fast, your skin will basically melt off your bones."

"What a nice mental picture Atton, thank you. I'll—"

But there was only static.


	4. static

Static. Just…static. She was on her own.

Somehow Atton didn't like the sound of that. He should be down there right now instead of her. If he just wasn't such a—

"What the hell?" The readings were going berserk – the energy level was the equivalent of a huge…

Explosion. A huge explosion. The tunnel had completely collapsed. Atton shook his head. This couldn't… It wasn't happening.

_If she had made it…_ There would have been a connection by now. But the signal was dead. Just dead. Gone.

Static.


	5. stuck

There was no other way out. The mine shaft, their – his – last option, had collapsed. It was gone. He was stuck on this space-forsaken fuel planet, surrounded by several trillion gallons of highly explosive fuel.

"Well Atton, it looks like we won't be getting out of this one." He muttered to himself, rubbing his face tiredly. _I guess my scoundrel's luck has finally run out._

The control panel flashed mockingly up at him, signaling life when he knew there was none to be found. He scowled at the green light and watched as it slowly moved from one area to the next. But the next area was most definitely _outside_ of the station.

"What the— Mærin?" He tested her comlink and cursed his rising hopes.

"What's wrong now? I did absolutely _nothing! _It was probably that creepy protocol droid…" It couldn't be possible. She was—

"I'm getting info that you're not actually inside the station. But that _can't _be right." It just couldn't.

He could almost hear her roll her eyes. "Atton, look up." Directly outside the window, Mærin stood in all of her alive-and-environmental-suited glory.

"I thought I lost you for a second there." He laughed and winced at how forced it sounded. "Don't do it again." She smiled tiredly, but it disappeared as soon as she turned around. "What now? Uh, Mærin, I'm picking up some strange—"

"Docking codes, right?"

He eyed her through the window. "You know the ship?"

She chewed at her lower lip. "It's the _Harbinger._"


	6. flight

But it wasn't the _Harbinger._ Not as Mærin remembered it. It used to be alive, teeming with people eager to please. Alive and business-like.

Now, now it was cold and wrong. Empty.

Dark.

Mærin shuddered involuntarily. Everything in her, the very core of her, was screaming at her to run. To put as much distance between her and this... this emptiness.

"Atton, we need to leave. _Now._"

She rushed onward into the abandoned space station.

"You felt it as well, I suppose." The woman spoke in a stiff voice as she crossed the distance between the morgue and Mærin. The old woman's steel-grey hair was simply fashioned into two demure braids, but the woman radiated power and cunning. Age had dulled nothing but her body. "I am Kreia, and if we plan to make it off this ship alive, it is imperative that you close your mouth and run."

Mærin was speechless. "Y-you were dead, you didn't move—"

Kreia shook her hooded head with impatience. "There will be time to explain later. He has arrived. Come, Jedi, we flee."


	7. boarding

"_Two _Jedi? What, did you breed when my back was turned?" Mærin's Jedi companion was not _nearly_ as attractive as Atton would have hoped. Unless one was into very… mature women.

"Atton, there's no time to explain. We have to go." He looked between the Jedi. One looked like she had eaten a very sour lemon, the other was concerned. And… fearful.

Something didn't add up. Mærin was _scared_? The woman who had risked her life half-naked in the mine shafts was scared?

"I take it that the ship that just docked is not a friend of yours." He was certain that if the old woman's eyes weren't covered they would have bored holes in his face.

"I hope that your talent for understatement is outweighed by your skill with a blaster." _Touché._

"Yeah, I can run and drink real well too, your Majesty."

"Enough!" Mærin snapped, "We don't have time for this." she made a dash for the boarding ramp, leaving the old hag and Atton no choice but to follow her.


	8. turret

"Chiding Statement: Ah, Master, you should have followed my advice to stay put. Did you not hear me?" The grey HK model droid blocked the Jedi's path ominously. Mærin glared at the hunk of metal, clearly irritated.

"Oh, I heard you alright. Just like I heard you kill all of those innocent miners. I don't normally listen to homicidal assassin droids." Atton marveled at how quickly women could change moods. _Amazing._

"Offended Retraction: Homicidal is such a harsh word. I prefer hard-working."

"I didn't want to fight you, but I guess it's going to be necessary."

"Anguished Conclusion: Then I am afraid that you will need to be disposed of." The fanatic droid's burning wave of blaster shots rained down on the group.Mærin rushed past him, flashing her dual longswords menacingly at her adversary. She took the HK unit down with great broad strokes and knelt, catching her breath.

"Meddling droid." Kreia spat, disgusted at the turn of events.

The droid began to chime quietly. "Self destruction countdown initiated. Three."

_Self destruction? But that meant—_

"Everybody down, NOW!" Atton barked, hitting the floor.

"Two."

"_Kreia! MOVE!"_ Mærin screamed. An invisible hand pushed the old Jedi out of the way of harm. Mærin looked at Atton with fearless eyes.

_She's too close._

"One."

The explosion was deafening.


	9. burn

Her vision was filled with bright flares of yellow, white. Her body screamed in protest as Mærin picked herself up. Her arm was on fire. She could feel Kreia at her side, muttering curses in a language Mærin couldn't comprehend.

"That annoying gun turret got you pretty good." Atton's voice could be heard over the ringing in her ears and his arm was already around her waist, helping her stand. "You took the heroism thing too far. Can you walk?"

"I'm fine." She said, wincing as she tried to stand on her own. "But my leg isn't." Slices of metal had embedded themselves into her calf muscle where she wasn't protected and pain lanced up her leg with every step. Mærin swore vehemently, knowing how useless she would be when she was unable to walk.

"We do not have the time nor the energy to deal with that now. If you can travel, then that is all we can ask for."

"Kreia – I'll only slow both of you down. You can't expect to get anywhere with me if I can barely move – It's suicide!" Mærin glared at the old woman, willing Kreia to understand.

"I can support you." Atton said, daring to challenge Mærin's furious eyes. The old Jedi smiled at Mærin beneath her hood.

"We will not leave you behind, no matter how loudly you protest. We waste precious time bickering – Let us leave this place now." The exile shook her head in angry resignation and silently limped with Atton onto the _Harbinger._


	10. support

They walked through the ghost ship noiselessly, the Exile leaning on Atton as she limped. The _Harbinger_ was flooded in darkness: only the emergency lights lit the group's path. The lights pulsed a menacing red, throwing obscure shadows over the sparse halls. The presence of death was strong, almost overpowering. Mærin could taste it on the end of her tongue and it crept about her body like a second skin. She started as Kreia's musing echoed through the empty dormitory halls.

"Nothing is alive here, yet there are no blaster marks on the walls, no evidence of vibroblade or grenade."

"So what are you saying?" Mærin felt more than she heard Atton's voice as it reverberated through his body as he supported her.

"What I am saying is that the soldiers did not die from battle. They were killed with the Force." Kreia's tone cut like a blade. "I have a feeling that whoever did the killing is not far away."

"Look," Mærin said, attempting to relieve the tension, "We already have the navigation charts. We can't have much further to go. If we move fast enough…" she left the hope unspoken, not wanting to break the fragile idea by putting it into words. The three came upon an open door, and Mærin's eyes flashed in recognition.

"What is it?" Atton asked, sensing the change in her stance. Mærin shuffled forward and tried to piece together her memories.

"This… This was my room. Before Peragus…" She drifted off and forced Atton to follow her into the abandoned space.

"Do not linger overlong in this place – as we speak our time runs out." Kreia said, but Mærin paid her no heed. The old Jedi was forced to raise her voice to a steely grate. "The _Harbinger_ is dead, and we will share its fate if we do not move _now._" The younger woman slung a small worn bag onto her back and finally acknowledged Kreia.

"I'm done here."

-

The medical bay, cold and empty, was no different than the rest of the ship. The power was gone, and the remaining lights cast an eerie blue glow over the entire room, bathing it in shadows. X-rays lay strewn across the floor in a haphazard manner, depicting multiple fractures on the skull and torso of a patient. Computer screens flashed ultramarine blue and glass fragments ground beneath Mærin's boots.

Bacta tanks in the bay were shattered and useless; destroyed, it seemed, from the inside. Broken wires hissed and sparked nearby. Kreia ran her hand down the length of a counter tentatively, as if the simple touch would bring light on to what had transpired there.

"I have a bad feeling about this." Atton said, putting into words what all three felt.

"There's nothing here anyway – we should leave." Mærin spoke in a barely audible whisper.

The medical bay door close behind them and menacing figures filled the hall, circling the companions. Atton bared his teeth and fired a volley of blaster shots into the aggressors as Kreia buried her long sword into the chest of another. Blood splattered onto Mærin's face and she picked the men off with precise shots. The last fell to the ground at Kreia's feet. She looked down at the body with disdain.

"Sith assassins. One part of our mystery has been solved." She turned and gazed down the long hall. Mærin's gaze followed; her eyes struggled to make out shapes in the flickering light. Something moved, sauntered towards the three of them. The darkness that had been chasing Mærin since her dream materialized from the shadows. Fear clutched at her heart and she broke out in a cold sweat. Kreia strode forward with bold, swift steps.

"This is my battle – I am not defenseless." She waved Atton and the Exile away with a broad stoke of her hand. "I will find you soon. Run while you can." Mærin dug her nails into Atton's side as panic took her. He swore under his breath.

"Kreia—"

"_Run._"

Atton tore Mærin away from the old Jedi, forcing the woman to look ahead and rush in the opposite direction. Her mind reeled. The nightmare was real. And Kreia...

Kreia had marched straight into death itself.


	11. pain

Pain.

It was a fire, consuming him until nothing was left. It blinded him, this pain that tore at him like a thousand vibroblades, slicing into his skin, his heart, his mind, until nothing was left but this darkness that consumed him, this perversion of the Force that claimed his body and soul.

But even through the pain, _she_ was there. Her voice was a blend of smoke and charcoal and heat that seared through his head, constantly whispering within the darkest shadows of his mind.

His master haunted him, mocked him, reproached him.

Always she was there, and she would remain there, always, until his decrepit body lost the will to live.

If he could call his existence living.

He had come for the Jedi, to finally rid the galaxy of the pathetic fools who ridiculed his way of life and threatened to choke the flow of the Force.

He had come for the Jedi and had found his master.

He had found _her. _He could feel her disgust; she exuded it from every fiber in her body. She was superior to him as a master was to their student. It was an arrogance he could not tolerate.

She spoke, but he paid no attention to the words she spewed forth. He could only concentrate on her presence, on the fact that she was near.

The love and hate he felt for her became one impossible feeling, twisted and maddening. She was the first to have taken him under her wing, the first to show him the Force. She was first to show him true power, and she was the first to betray him.

He wanted to break her like she had broken him.

He had envisioned this meeting for years, anticipating the day he would meet her after her exile. He had imagined what he would say to her, what he would tell her. He dreamed of how he would hurt her.

But his dreams fled with the sound of her voice. He had stripped her of power, yet still she wielded power over him. He withdrew his lightsaber and it sprang to life with the familiar snap-hiss. Its red glow cleared his thoughts, reminded him of the power he could hold in his hands. He heard his voice, as rough and cracked as his body, ring out through the empty ship, but he couldn't hear his words. He wanted to break her, to wipe the smug, knowing look off of her face. He wanted to break her slowly, painfully, until she was groveling at his feet. Until he was the master and she the student.

He would break her.

-

Pain.

It was roaring fire, engulfing her hand and lancing up into her arm. It blinded her, forcing her to her knees and wrenching a raw scream from her throat. It cut at the fringe of her sanity: she slipped into shadow.

And through the pain, she could hear his voice. It had reached a frenzied pitch, wildly coaxing her to move, to hang on. His voice sliced through the pain like a blade and pierced the darkness in her mind. Mærin's eyes flew open, staring straight into Atton's worried hazel eyes.

"What the hell was that?" His voice was rough, "Are you okay?" Mærin stood, grasping onto Atton's outstretched hand.

"I…I'm fine. We should keep moving." She was ashamed to find that she was shaking.

He eyed her suspiciously. "Alright then. If you're sure…"

She nodded. "I'm sure."

-

Atton's mind raced as he ran up metal ramps, skirting droids with ease. All he could think about was the woman he held protectively to his side. It bothered him that in a time of crisis, all he could think about was a pretty face. He was certain that his own face wouldn't remain pretty if he stuck around her. In the first few hours of knowing Mærin, she had given him more scares than any other woman he had met. He had a feeling that trouble followed her like a kath hound follows its master. If Atton valued his skin, it would be better not to stick around.

He glared at the utility droid gliding in front of them. She, of course, had fallen in love with the piece of slab immediately and now they were stuck with it in all of its bleeping metal glory. How anyone could trust a droid…

M1rin stumbled, jolting Atton out of his train of thought. He picked up speed, cursing how swiftly the mining droids moved. The T3 unit beeped something incomprehensible. If Atton didn't know better, he would have thought that the droid was beeping in elation.

The droid stopped in its tracks and caught Atton by surprise. Swearing viciously, Atton tripped over the droid and was left sprawling on the floor. He leapt up; expecting the mining droids' advance, but metal doors had already shut his attackers out. Atton looked out the observation window, grinning at the slick freighter before him.

_Pure Pazaak. _

His sense of excitement died when he tried to open the hanger bay door.

It was locked. Atton ran his hands through his hair in frustration and suddenly remembered Mærin. She had helped herself up, leaning against a wall while talking to the useless droid. "The door-It's locked. The _Hawk's_ right there and we can't get it— what is that damn droid doing now?" Atton glared at T3-M4 as it buzzed around a computer panel.

"He says he can unlock it."

Atton raised an eyebrow. "How do you know what its saying?"

She averted her gaze to the humming droid. "During the war… I worked with a lot of droids." The hanger bay doors snapped open with a hiss and T3 rolled quickly through them. Atton's arm snaked around Mærin's waist, supporting her as they ran.

The _Ebon Hawk _was waiting.


	12. blasters

The _Ebon Hawk _loomed before him, his – their - last chance of freedom from the abandoned mining station. The small freighter dominated Atton's vision, blocking all else from his mind. He could finally leave Peragus behind.

Blaster shots rang out sharply through the hangar bay and a stray grenade flared in Atton's hindsight. He diverted his gaze, assessing the attackers and swore. _Just what we needed._

More Sith.

Their armor gleamed in the pale fluorescent light and rattled with each long stride forward. The _Ebon Hawk's_ boarding ramp beckoned Mærin and Atton into the ship, closing with a snap. Atton unceremoniously dumped Mærin into the pilot's seat, dashing off to the gun turret.

"Get this ship running – set a course for Telos! I'll man the guns." He picked off the Sith troopers with a grim finality. He watched as each one fell, lifeless, to the ground. The men seemed oblivious to their fallen comrades, oblivious to the erratic spray of gunfire destined to cut the other Sith down.

Memories flooded Atton's mind, screams of the dying as they were unmercifully shot down, the burn of the blaster as it skimmed past his face. The fallen soldiers' image flashed behind Atton's eyes; their Republic uniforms torn and bloody, their bodies damaged beyond repair. He stopped firing the turret, stopped everything. His mind was fixed on that moment, fixed on his past. He heard his comrades screaming endlessly, and then –

Mærin screaming.

"Atton – we've got company!" He heard blaster shots and the sharp clang of vibroblades within the ship. Springing from his seat, Atton came face to face with a steely Sith mask before it fell, a shot in the back. Mærin held Atton's gaze for a second before raising her blaster pistol again. "I can handle the ones here – go get the ones that spread out in the back rooms."

Atton nodded, stealing a vibroblade from the Sith corpse. He ran in the direction Mærin had pointed, his muscles tense. He had let the Sith on the ship, in a pointless, idiotic moment of weakness. Anger flooded his mind, anger at himself for being so senseless. The Sith fell to his blade quickly, caught in surprise at his sudden ferocity. The last three troopers were ready for him, wary of Atton's weapon and his apparent taste for battle.

They charged, blades humming. Atton dropped and rolled, skewering a Sith through the gut, fulfilling his bloodlust. Feeling a sharp pain at his side, Atton snarled and spun around. The two troopers that had bothered to get in his way were neatly leveled. He stood, surveying the carnage as his battle fury faded from his mind. It had happened so fast, this waste of life. He shook his head in self-disgust. Wincing at the cut in his side, Atton returned to the cockpit.

-

"Kreia? How—" The old woman had suddenly appeared within the _Ebon Hawk_. She was panting, favoring her hand. Mærin's mind echoed Atton's question, but Kreia ignored the subject.

"Move! Our enemy follows still."

The broken man's image surfaced in Mærin's head, and with it coldness crept over her. She shivered lightly, nodded her head as the ship lurched into motion.

Atton took the copilot's seat next to her, giving her an odd reassurance. Mærin forced her mind off the subject. The steady rumble of the _Harbinger _undocking from the Peragus station was heard as the _Ebon Hawk_ dove into space. Mærin heard Atton swear violently as enemy turrets rained shots down on the small freighter.

"If they hit us, we're dead. If they keep missing us, we're dead. That's great odds."

Mærin sighed angrily – Atton's talent for sarcasm was gnawing at her already short nerves. "We don't have much of a choice here. Just keep flying and we'll make the jump to hyperspace as soon as we clear this damn asteroid field—" Explosions rocked the _Ebon Hawk_, throwing its crew off balance and sending chunks of debris into space. Giant blazes of crimson gold and indigo flashed in the corner of Mærin's eye. Mærin stared, wide-eyed, as she killed yet another planet.

The _Ebon Hawk_ shuddered and disappeared into space.

-

Mærin leaned back tiredly in her seat as Atton turned to her.

"After being chased around by mining droids and Sith, having a chat with a guy who sleeps with vibroblades, and blowing up a whole damn planet, I'd like to please know what the hell is going on here."

Mærin ignored him and turned instead toward the old Jedi. She spoke in soft, steely tones. "Who are they? _Why_ are they bent on killing us?"

Kreia straightened, answering in a tone as scathing as Mærin's. "_They_ are the Sith. They wish to end your life because you are the last of the Jedi."

The blood drained from Mærin's face. "The last ?" It couldn't be true, it wasn't real. All of them? Just… dead? She turned away. "I am no longer a Jedi."

"It matters not what you think about yourself. They believe you to be a Jedi, and therefore they believe that you must die. They have hunted the Jedi and slaughtered them. You are their final mark."

Mærin shook her head. The last of the Jedi? "This… This isn't making any sense." They couldn't all be gone. What about—

"You have a war to face, Exile." Kreia's voice, almost inaudible, interrupted Mærin's train of thought. "Pitting yourself against these enemies is risky at best. It will be difficult to walk away from, and you lost much in the last war. Are you so ready to fight again?"

The faces of her dead comrades flashed in Mærin's mind as she looked out into space. "I have nothing left to lose, Kreia. I might as well try."

"You are just like all the rest of the Jedi!" Kreia spat, "You hear, but you do not listen! Are you truly willing?"

Mærin straightened her spine, but she did not turn to face the woman. "I am ready."

Kreia waved at the younger woman dismissively. "Then you will need a teacher. Prepare yourself, Exile. This war will be a difficult one." The old woman walked swiftly down the hall into shadow.

Another war. More battle. More suffering, more death.

Atton stood, offering Mærin his hand. "You might want to check out that leg of yours before anything really serious happens to it." Mærin could have laughed. Something serious already happened.

-

The small medical room on the _Ebon Hawk _was well lit and, to Atton's surprise, well stocked with medical supplies. It was furnished sparsely, with only a few counters, cabinets, and a cold metal table. The sight of the room brought back more memories, but Atton pushed them in the back of his mind. Where they belonged.

Mærin had seated herself on the table, cutting away the mining uniform around her leg. He stood in the doorway, watching as the Exile picked away slices of metal embedded in her skin. Each one she found left a small crimson trail down her leg, and the blood stained the tips of her fingers a dark red. She made no noise during the obviously painful procedure.

But then, Jedi were trained against pain.

"Where is it?"

She glanced up at him, her puzzlement plainly written across her face. Apparently, Jedi weren't trained against surprise. "Where is what?"

"Your lightsabre. You were a Jedi, right? We both know that it would have come in handy dozens of times on Peragus. So where is yours?"

She turned her concentration back on her leg, and the tweezers' movements picked up speed and ferocity. Was she angry? Or just uncomfortable? "Exiles are not allowed to keep their lightsabres."

_Ah, so the truth is revealed._ It certainly explained why Kreia insisted on calling Mærin "Exile." He quirked an eyebrow."And here I always thought that Jedi were married to their lightsabres."

Again, her dark blue eyes met his. "People can be married to people as well, but even those bonds are easily severed."

Damn, but she was clever. Still, something about her past piqued his curiosity. "What did it look like? Your lightsabre, I mean. Don't tell me it was one of those red ones…"

She laughed, and Atton silently patted himself on the back. "No, both the hilt and the crystal were unique."

"Yeah? Unique how?"

"Violet. Like Hurikain gems in the sunset."

Atton watched as her face turned reminiscent. Apparently, she was poetic as well. He nodded in appreciation. "How's your leg holding up?" He noticed that the pile of metal shards on the table beside Mærin had grown larger. She placed the tweezers down, closed her eyes. Her hands hovered around her damaged leg and she scowled in concentration. Atton could feel the energy radiating off the Exile, and his muscles tensed in response. He reminded himself that under everything, she was still a Jedi.

Her eyes opened, and smiling, she slid off the cold table, testing her leg.

She brushed past Atton. "I'm going to take a shower, if you don't mind. And," Mærin paused in next to him. "Take care of that cut of yours. Before it gets infected."

"How?" He was sure that he hadn't mentioned anything to her. She had already walked on. She would always be a Jedi.

-

Mærin let the hot water wash over her body, willing it to wash away her memories. All of the Jedi…

It was hard to believe that they were gone. If Kreia was right, then there would be no doubt…

She had convinced herself that he had died in the war, but there had always been that small, miniscule chance that he just might appear one day, alive. She never imagined him any older – nothing about him had changed in her mind. His complexion would be just as dark as she remembered, his curly black hair would be just as unruly as it always was. And his eyes… They would always be that intense green color that knotted her heart and twisted her stomach.

"Cael." She felt his name rolling off her tongue, echoing in the refresher walls.

If Kreia was right…

Tears rushed down Mærin's face as she lost Cael again.

-

that was, officially, the longest chapter that has ever been posted for 'Atrisia'.

It also marks the end of one part of this story and the beginning of another.

Peragus is done everyone, and I couldn't be happier. There really is so much you can do with a planet destined to explode. On to Telos! Where, I promise, the random Czerka/Ithorian missions will not be explained in great detail or depth.

Be prepared for another minor character's plot. Can you guess who it is? A cookie for anyone who guesses correctly!

I'd like to take the time to thank everyone who has taken the time to read and review the first 12 chapters of Atrisia - I feel so very loved! For anyone who has an urgant need to read the earlier chapters - now revised with a few extra tidbits (nothing too special) - they are available now. Have fun!

bri


	13. telos

"It is time that you awaken, Jedi. We arrive at our destination." Kreia's smoky voice broke through Mærin's hazy dreams and chased away the last shreds of sleep. The Exile regarded Kreia warily as she slid out of bed, still unsure of how to handle the older woman. Their conversation last night had thrown Mærin into confusion.

To have a force bond so powerful it could be fatal…was it even possible? Mærin shrugged on simple robes as she remembered the fiery pain in her hand she felt as Kreia lost her hand. The force bond made sense, but the thought of having one's life attached to another's…

Mærin shook her head and walked to the cockpit.

Atton took the _Hawk_ into the Citadel Station's traffic slowly, giving himself time to survey the damage Revan's fleet had inflicted on Telos' surface.

The bombardment had turned the surface of the planet an angry red, pockmarked and scarred. It was a sad change from the original Telos, which had been known around the galaxy for its fertile plains and valleys. The Citadel Station hung over Telos like an enormous metal bandage, failing in its attempt to resurrect the dead planet. The grey buildings sat arranged on a grid, stark and desolate.

_The Force decided to bring us here?_ Atton flew the ship into an open hangar, setting her down as gently as his rusty flying skills allowed.

"So this is Telos…" Mærin's murmur made Atton jump – he hadn't noticed her presence. "This… Revan did this, didn't she?"

Atton didn't answer, not sure of what to tell her. There was something about her expression, the slight darkness that fell over her face, that made Atton uneasy. _Avoid the subject. _

He eyed her new clothes and rested expression. "I take it that you're feeling better?" He wished he could say the same about himself.

Her mouth quirked downward. Maybe he hadn't avoided the subject as well as he wanted. "What do you mean?"

Atton sighed, no longer sure he remembered what he meant. "I don't know. You seem more… at peace with yourself than when I saw you on Peragus."

Mærin glanced at him, eyebrow raised. "Actually, I haven't felt this good in a while. I guess I hadn't really noticed it…"

He watched as a small smile spread across her lips. "Well, whatever you're doing, keep it up. You're a nice contrast to that old witch."

Her smile vanished as soon as it appeared. "We should probably register with the docking officials."

He followed her out of the cockpit and down the boarding ramp. "Look, I didn't mean to offend you or anything. It's just that…" He left the sentence hanging, not sure how to finish it.

She finished it for him. "It's just that she put her life in danger so we could save ours. The least you could do is offer some respect."

He guessed that he was supposed to feel guilty, but the guilt didn't come. "Hey – I never _asked_ her to get her hand chopped off, and you can't tell me that you haven't heard all the 'imbeciles' and 'fools' she throws at me every time I happen to pass her way."

Mærin waved him off, walking onto the loading dock. "Getting sympathy from you is like squeezing water from a stone."

That was harsh. "I—"

A woman's voice sounded unintelligibly over the intercom as a stocky man and a team of Republic soldier strode up to the Exile. Alarm bells rang in Atton's head – the situation had become increasingly familiar.

Something was very wrong. Atton motioned to the _Ebon Hawk_, encouraging Mærin to turn tail and run. They could make it if they moved fast enough.

She shook her head at him and turned back as the officer approached her.

"I am Lieutenant Grenn of the Citadel Station. Do you have affiliation with this freighter, _Ebon Hawk_?" Atton let loose a string of curses as he saw Mærin nod. "You are under arrest for the destruction of the Peragus mining facility. Your ship, droids, and belongings will be detained here until we receive further information to clear your name."

Atton stepped up to the lieutenant as Mærin blanched. "This is outrageous! You have no proof."

"We have proof enough to charge you for destroying Peragus II." Grenn's voice had become tight as he scowled up at Atton. "We will escort you to your rooms."

Atton glared darkly at the soldiers, wishing looks could kill.

Mærin chewed her bottom lip. "Go get Kreia and T3. They'll want to know what happened."

Atton sighed in frustration. "Tell me I'm _not_ going to jail again."

wince sorry about the shortness of this one. I promise the next one will be longer.

Oh, and the contest is still on for a cookie! Guess the new POV to come correctly and you'll taste an oh-so-special cookie. I can almost taste the excitement.

cheers fora new planetand ace!

bri


	14. citadel

Mærin watched durasteel doors slide firmly shut behind Lieutenant Grenn's back. She sank down to the bottom of her containment cell with her legs crossed and wished she had Kreia's composure. The old woman had already lost herself in meditation, apparently unconcerned about their current situation.

Peragus was gone. Obliterated. All of its fuel resources had exploded with the planet, and Mærin didn't need a degree in planetary economics to know what that meant for Telos. She had almost single-handedly destroyed one planet and doomed another.

Atton's voice broke her out of her reverie. "You just had to talk to Grenn, didn't you? You couldn't have just walked away and let the problems go to someone else." His eyebrows were furrowed in a dark scowl as he pointedly glared at Mærin.

She matched his glare through the electric containment field. "And that would have been better somehow? Please don't hesitate to explain your 'logic' to me."

"This," he growled, motioning around at the prison room, "All of this is your fault. _All _of it. First it was whole hoard of Sith on your ass. Then it was the fact that your 'friends' neatly erased Peragus from the map while the Telosian government held the Ebon Hawk responsible.

"But the thing that gets me the most is the fact that you didn't even bother to try and get us out of this mess. Oh no. You had to be the good citizen and take the blame for a crime you didn't do. If you had _any_ common sense at all, you would have taken my advice and _run_. But you didn't. Apparently you don't have any Jedi-sense either, because even _that_ should have been screaming at you. What the _hell _were you thinking?"

"If you had any thoughts besides saving your own hide, then you'd know _exactly_ what I was thinking." Her voice gained intensity and anger, growing in volume. "If you hadn't noticed, the only place on our navigation charts was Telos. The Ebon Hawk is barely serviceable and almost out of fuel. By running, we would have branded ourselves criminals in the eyes of the galaxy and would be a prime target for bounty hunters. Hell, maybe I was trying to be a good citizen. At least I have the decency to try. Next time you want to throw a tantrum and blame someone else for your current discomfort you should think your argument through. It might save you the embarrassment." She turned away from him and let her eyes bore imaginary holes in the opposite wall. After a few minutes, she snuck a glance in his direction.

He had retreated to his Pazaak cards and he was mercifully silent. Mærin closed her eyes, wishing for the peace of mind she used to have.

The hissing of the prison doors interrupted the furious thoughts that streaked through Atton's mind as he glared at his Pazaak cards. He looked up and stood as he saw a tall Republic soldier step through the doors. The soldier's boots clicked sharply on the metal floor and Atton could hear the rustling of clothes as the Exile stood behind him. 

"Are our apartments ready?" Mærin's impatience was evident as she spoke.

"No, I'm afraid that they're not." The man's voice was cold and he sounded like he was used to getting his way. "So this is the famed 'last of the Jedi. I can't say that I'm impressed. I was told to be careful, but I see no reason now."

Atton narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?" 

The man smiled and sauntered over to the nearby control panel. "The security was surprisingly easy to slip past. The cameras to this very room aren't functioning properly either. It would be a pity if something were to happen to the Lieutenant's prize prisoners." Playing idly with the controls, he turned to face Mærin. "Shouldn't you be attacking me now with your 'powers'? Strike me down, Jedi – that is if you can."

Atton bristled, not bothering to see if he was the only one reacting to the bounty hunter's taunts. "Why don't you let us out and fight like a real man?"

The man's voice was quiet, deadly. "Insolent bastard. Fight me then. I doubt that an old woman, a useless Jedi, and a fool will be able to stop me."

The energy field surrounding Atton disappeared and a breeze stirred past his face. He turned to look at Mærin and balked.

Her eyes had rolled to the back of her head and her hand was outstretched in the direction of the bounty hunter.

Power erupted from her figure, drowning the man in a wave of lightening. His screams reverberated through the small room. The smell of burning flesh soon filled the air.

Silence. Mærin… she had killed the bounty hunter with the Force.  
_A Jedi._  
Shouting soldiers burst through the prison door and were silenced Lieutenant Grenn's voice, directed at the prisoners.

"Back up into your holding cells slowly, with your hands up. You wouldn't want to do anything incriminating."

A female officer gagged at the sight of the man on the floor. "Lieutenant… is that Batu Rem? He's… He's dead."

"Batu Rem… He's not supposed to be at the station – he's on leave. Who is this man?" Grenn turned to face Mærin, expecting an explanation.

Atton answered instead. "Bounty hunter." She used the Force to kill a man. She couldn't be trusted.

"A bounty hunter?" The Lieutenant turned to face the other soldiers. "How did a bounty hunter manage to break into the prison? Who was in charge here?" The soldiers shook their heads and the lines around Grenn's face became more pronounced. "Very well. We will investigate immediately." He turned back to the prisoners, his gaze still suspicious and stern. "Your apartments are secure."

_They had better be more secure than the prison._

The prisoners walked tiredly after the retreating shadow of the Lieutenant.

The apartments were spacious and comfortable – a lot more accommodating than the force cages. But they were still trapped on the dying planet, waiting for some psychotic Sith to come and blow their brains out.

Atton didn't want to stay any longer than absolutely necessary. He glanced around the room, searching for any obvious security cameras. "Listen," he said, addressing Mærin, "We need to get off of this planet before some of your delightful 'friends' come for a visit. We need to get the Ebon Hawk."

Kreia stared hard at Mærin, completely ignoring Atton. "The Force brought us to Telos for a reason. There might be Jedi hidden on the planet, and we have been given enough time to investigate before the Sith arrive. We should stay as long as we are able to."

Atton balked. "You're joking, right? Are you actually saying that you_ want_ to stay here? Mærin, tell me that you're not considering what Kreia's saying." 

Mærin took her time answering, her face a picture of indecision. She finally began to speak, but her words were slow and thought out. "Kreia has a point—"

_"What?"_ He wanted to leave the planet and all of the problems he had suddenly encountered behind. This woman had gotten him into enough shit to last a lifetime.

"Let me finish!" Mærin snapped, apparently remembering their earlier argument. "There might be Jedi that can help us. And we need any help we can get. But I don't like staying here any more than you do, Atton, and I have a feeling that the Sith aren't going to take their time getting here once they figure out where we are." She rubbed the side of her face briefly. "We shouldn't stay on Telos long. We'll look for any Jedi until we're released from arrest. As soon as they let us go, we're leaving. Will that work for everyone?"

Atton nodded sullenly. It was the best he would get from Mærin or Kreia, and he tried to make himself be thankful that Mærin understood at least a portion of what he had said.

It didn't work. He sat at a lone table in the room, glowering down at his Pazaak cards as the old woman and Mærin meditated. Staring at his cards without actually paying any attention to them had become second nature to him, a habit that he used often. The two women meditating had caught his interest, and after Kreia had spoke to Mærin in hushed tones for a bit, they had become silent and withdrawn. The old hag rigidly buried herself beneath her brown cloak, hiding her face from view. Mærin had merely settled into a loose sitting position and closed her eyes. The two women were models of contrast, each doing the opposite of the other. The more Atton watched them, the more obvious the differences became. Old and young. Closed and open. Dark and light. Witch and… what? He wasn't sure how to describe the comparison in that way. Witch and… Jedi.

The name stuck in his mind and turned sour. Jedi. The word didn't fit Mærin exactly, but it fit her enough to make Atton wary. Now that he thought about it, the comparison between the women was different. More like teacher and student.

Master and Padawan.

The apartment doors slid open and a short woman walked in with a serving tray full of food. She was young, and seemed ill at ease around the two Jedi meditating on the floor. Atton glanced past her, noticing how close their guards were standing to the door. _At least they have the brains to watch the Jedi closer than before._

"The Lieutenant Grenn has requested that dinner be brought to your room. Just leave the leftovers on the tray and someone will be around to pick it up later." The serving woman backed out of the apartment quickly after timidly relaying her message. The doors clicked firmly shut behind her and Mærin had risen from her meditative state to inspect the food. A small warning bell sounded in Atton's mind. 

"Wait—they might have added sedatives to the food. You shouldn't touch it."

Mærin rolled her eyes, no longer in the diplomatic mood. "Please. If they wanted to drug us, they would have done it already. I don't know about you, but I haven't eaten in Force only knows how long." She picked up a platter of fruit and rice and joined Atton at the table. The smell of cooked meat had reached him, causing his mouth to water.

_When was the last time I had food?_ He couldn't remember, but he didn't want to prove Mærin correct by eating anything right away. His stomach rumbled loudly, betraying his hungry status to the woman across from him. She smirked, taking an enormous bite from a particularly fragrant fruit. 

_To hell with it._ He snatched something from the tray that looked like it had wings before it was cooked and took his seat. Mærin smiled in a way that told Atton he wouldn't live the experience down. "So Atton, how do the sedatives taste? I hear they complement most meals nicely." Her voice was smug and unbelievably grating against his fraying nerves.

He smirked back at her, taking a bite from his plate. "They do actually, unlike the present company." He took another bite, relishing in his small victory as the smirk in her face was replaced with careful indifference. The meal continued in blessed silence, giving Atton ample time to enjoy his first piece of food since the rations stopped coming on Peragus. He had to admit that the chef on Citadel station knew what he was doing.

Mærin was lost in her own thoughts, and it didn't surprise Atton when she suddenly got up from the table and settled in one of the beds without a word. Atton took the opportunity to get some answers from the old witch. He stood next to her as she stared out at the passing traffic. She barely acknowledged his presence, but that was something Atton had grown used to in the time spent with Kreia.

"I have a question for you."

The woman continued to stare out the window, and when she spoke her voice was devoid of inflection. "I have not the years to answer your questions nor the desire to indulge you."

Atton plowed on regardless. "How did she end up like this? Aren't Jedi supposed to be tough? Capable?"

The old woman snorted in disdain, but still refused to face him. "You think only of Jedi in the sense of the Force. Take that away from them, and they are weak. Mere children in the scope of the world. The Exile has nothing of what she once possessed. It is like cutting off both hands of a duelist and tossing him back into the ring. Now, she is simply a woman."

Atton shook his head. "But that doesn't explain all of it. She has a connection to the Force – we both saw her use it back in the prison and she used it to heal her leg. There's something more to it, I know it."

Kreia's wrinkled lips betrayed the barest of smiles. "Oh? Then why do you ask me if you know I do not have the answers? If you know that there is more than what lies at the surface, then you do not need me answer your question. I have no obligation to tell you. You can survive where a Jedi would not, simply because you cannot hear the Force as they do." It was Atton's turn to pointedly stare out the window. "That is the only reason I find you useful, and the only reason I tolerate your presence." She turned to look at Mærin, cocooned in a nest of blankets. "We will talk of this no more. We do a disservice to her by talking about this when she is not present." Kreia left Atton by the window and gracefully sat down in meditation. Her words left Atton more annoyed and confused than before. If the old hag wouldn't tell him anything, he'd have to find out for himself.

_She rested her back against the soft bark of a tree, enjoying the gentle sounds and warm smells of summer. Mærin's history homework on the Tarisian aristocracy glared up at her, threatening to ruin a perfectly wonderful day. The branches above her rustled obnoxiously, and she glared up at them in response. ___

_"You said that you'd help me with my homework!" She looked back at the empty notebook in her lap. "If I knew that you were going to be a Gamorrean about it, I would have listened to Master Traya's lectures when I had the chance." ___

_The rustling, in response, pelted her with ripe Hindian pears and laughed as Mærin gave shouts of protest. An over-ripe pear smacked her squarely in the forehead and Mærin's lips drew together in a thin line as she wiped the pulpy mess from her face. "That's it," she growled, concentrating on the shadow in the branches, "you're in for it now, you snobby aristocrat!" The figure above gave a yelp as an unseen force pushed him from his perch, causing him to tumble to the ground in a heap of twigs and Padawan robes. ___

_"Hey, no fair!" He protested, attempting to rearrange himself. ___

_Mærin crossed her arms. "It serves you right. You promised me that you'd help me with my homework." ___

_He shook out leaves from his unruly black curls and pulled out a piece of fruit from his robes. "Look what I found – the perfect pear. See, it's perfectly ripe and just the right golden tone that you like…" He trailed off, realizing he had gained no ground with Mærin. "Come on, we have the whole afternoon free after Revan and Malak pulled that stunt on the Council – we might as well enjoy ourselves." He stared at her with deep green eyes – his greatest ploy – and smiled roguishly. He moved closer until Mærin could feel his warm breath against her skin. ___

_"Cael," she warned softly, her voice catching. Her anger had disappeared, and her caution was slipping away with it. He silenced her with a finger, leaned in closer, and—_

The comm unit's sharp rings pierced into Mærin's dream, shattering the image of the lazy summer day. She groaned as Atton turned to her.

"There's an Ithorian representing Chodo Habat – he wants to speak to you."

Mærin stared bluntly at Atton. _What would an Ithorian want with her?__  
_  
"What does he want?"

Atton shrugged. "Something about the restoration project. He says it's not urgent."

She waved him off. "In that case, tell him I'll talk to this Chodo Habat myself later. I don't feel like dealing with anyone right now." She barely heard Atton relay the message to the Ithorian. She was still caught up in her dream. Caught up in memories of Cael. _It seemed so real..._  
She was startled when Atton sat on the bed next to her, offering her a piece of fruit and a knife. She took both, murmuring a quick thank-you. _Apparently he's no longer worried about the food being drugged._

"What have you been doing? Since the war, I mean."

She arched an eyebrow, slicing into the fruit. _Direct, aren't we?_

"After my exile, you mean."

He seemed unperturbed. "Well… yeah."

"I explored hyperspace routes on the Outer Rim." 

It was his turn to arch an eyebrow. "Pretty dangerous work."

She shrugged. "It was something to do, I guess. Something…" she popped a slice of fruit into her mouth and nearly gagged. Mærin turned the fruit over, looking at its golden skin and pulpy innards.

_Hindian pear._ She stared at Atton, dumbfounded. _What are the chances of him giving me a this? I haven't had a Hindian pear since…_

He interrupted her thought. "Something what?"

"Where did you get this pear?" She demanded, pointing the knife at him.

He recoiled, lifting his hands entreatingly. "I—from the tray. I noticed you were eating them before so…" He trailed off when Mærin persisted in staring at him.

_I must've grabbed one on the plate of fruit,_ she realized, scrutinizing Atton still further. Why does he remind me so much of Cael? They're so different… But he was similar. His presence, the way he walked – he was sure of himself, just as Cael had been. Her face must have darkened, because Atton's became worried.

"Uh, Mærin? You wanna lower that knife? Are you okay?"

The sharp rings of the telecomm allowed Mærin an escape from the impending awkward explanation. She rose quickly and answered the call, holding the receiver up to her ear. A droid's precise voice greeted her and went on to mention the lack of funding for the Citadel's security.

"Excuse me – what are you trying to say?"

The droid heaved a mechanical sigh, "I'm afraid that the Ebon Hawk is no longer in possession of the TSF." 

Her eyes narrowed and her voice rose in anger.

_"What?_ What are you talking about? How is that even possible?" Atton let out a low whistle as Mærin's teeth clenched.

"I'm terribly sorry ma'am, but the TSF has no information about your ship's whereabouts. There have been speculations that it is on the surface of Telos, but we have no confirmation about whether or not that is true."

Mærin could have screamed. "Alright." Her voice was quiet and forced. "If you have any more information… I see." Mærin hung the phone up and turned to her companions. "The Ebon Hawk… It's gone."

He had felt the Jedi's pain the moment she stepped foot on the Citadel Station, a lingering hurt that had festered over the years. He didn't know how long she had lived with the pain – he only knew that it crippled her mentally and physically. The pain was at her very core, linked to the essence of who she was. The sheer amount of it was enormous.

The only time he had felt that much pain was the first time he had walked upon Telos' ashen surface. Everything on Telos had been burned and crushed, leaving the planet screaming and dying.

The Jedi carried a planet's worth of pain, and how she managed to breathe was a mystery to him.

But she would help him and his herd restore Telos to what it should be. He would try to help her as much as he was able, but he wasn't sure that it would be enough.

She would need to heal her pain herself. 

The hard heels of her shoes clicked rhythmically as Atris walked through the corridors of the Ebon Hawk. Her ice blue eyes scanned the deserted freighter, glaring at the solid metal walls. The ship told little about its inhabitants – it was as if the information that Atris was trying to obtain was being held just out of her grasp. Mærin had been on this ship: that much was certain. The security recordings had revealed her in the med bay, the cockpit, and the dormitory, but they didn't tell Atris about what Mærin was doing on the Ebon Hawk or what she was doing with companions. They didn't explain why Atris found the cloaked companion so familiar and so strange at the same time.

All of the personal items had been confiscated by the TSF on the citadel station and stored elsewhere. All of the personal items except the cheap romance holobooks secreted away in one of the dormitories. They were worthless, only revealing that Mærin had been on the ship – information Atris already knew.

Atris sighed angrily. She had taken a great risk in sending the last of the Handmaidens to steal this ship, and she had apparently gained nothing by it. 

Sitting down, Atris replayed the security recordings, furrowing her brow as Mærin's voice and image sprung to life. 

Mærin had aged well, but the years of exile had hardened her features. The holovid showed Mærin on the medical bench tending to her leg, but Atris only saw a woman instead of the girl she used to know, a woman still tainted with the dark side.

A man's voice sounded on the recording, distracting Mærin's attention from her leg. Atris strained to hear the man's voice. 

It wasn't Cael.

What did that mean? Cael and his beliefs had caused enough problems for Atris and the Jedi Council – tacking Cael and Mærin together would condemn Mærin as well. But the man wasn't Cael. Was Mærin no longer with Cael? If that was true, then she'd no longer sharing the same beliefs or doing the same thing. Which would mean that Mærin could have nothing to do with the numerous Jedi assassinations…

And yet Atris didn't know who the other man was. She didn't know why Mærin was on the Ebon Hawk or why she was wanted by the Telosian government. She didn't know why Mærin had suddenly come out of her ten year exile.

Atris glowered at the holovid.

_What does it all mean? __  
_  
Quiet whirring echoed down the hallway to Atris's right, shaking her out of her frustrated thinking. Taking her time, she followed the sound down the darkened corridor until she arrived in one of the dormitories. A droid rested with its back turned to Atris, projecting small images onto the back wall of the room. Atris smiled.

The droid would definitely clear some matters up.

Mærin shot a glance at the two droids sitting across from her in the docking quarter of the Citadel Station. One was a small utility droid, reminding her of the T3 unit that had been left aboard the Ebon Hawk before it was confiscated and then apparently stolen, taken to the surface of Telos.

The other droid, a companion to the first, was undeniably B-4D4, the droid that Mærin had tricked into accessing Czerka's mainframe to obtain dirt on Jana Lorso, the head of Czerka on Telos. That was just one of the 'favors' she did for the Ithorians to aid them in their cause to heal the planet of Telos. After all of the trouble she had with those Ithorians, Mærin was certain she wouldn't be doing any favors for a long time.

She rubbed her temple. _It all seems like such a blur now._

The involvement with the collapse of the Bumani Exchange Corporation and the Czerka scandal was dangerous and idiotic considering the Sith assassins clamoring for blood. Atton and Kreia had made sure that Mærin was aware of that fact.

But it was over now. All of the hours spent in the Cantina, all of the credits spent on bribes, all of the politics and bloodshed was over.

_Was it worth it?__  
_  
She hoped so. The Ithorians were honestly interested in Telos' welfare, and she prayed the Force that they would succeed in reviving the damaged planet. It lessened her guilt about Peragus and lifted the painful weight off her chest. Peragus was dead, but Telos didn't have to share its fate.

Mærin looked toward the docking bay doors. They were finally being given the chance to find the Ebon Hawk on Telos' surface by taking a shuttle provided by the Ithorians. They were finally being given the chance to fly away from this condemned planet and find out what kind of adversaries they were up against.

Mærin looked at Kreia, who had fallen asleep in her chair. The old woman's head had fallen forward onto her chest and her breath was heavy and slow. She began to snore quietly and Mærin smiled slightly, enjoying catching Kreia when her walls were down.

Atton had retreated back into his cards. Mærin sighed, looking around the waiting room. She wasn't tired enough to fall asleep and she couldn't leave the area until the shuttle was ready for flight.

She glanced back at Atton. She waited for a moment, considering.

Decided, she got up from her seat and sat next to him.

"Ten credits say that you can't beat me in a game of Pazaak."

He put his cards down and smirked. "Fifteen credits say that you're wrong."

As Atton shuffled and dealt, Mærin sneaked one last glance at the droids and knew that she never wanted to see those droids again. 

Carth sighed, staring into a reflection that wasn't his own.

He wished the reflection wasn't his own. He didn't want the graying temples, the dark circles under his eyes, the tired expression of a man who'd seen too much.

He didn't want the eyes of a man who's lost too much. The eyes of a man who's lost everything twice over.

The sharp rings of his telecomm punctured the silence of his quarters aboard The Sojourn.

Carth groaned, turning away from the mirror to answer the incoming call. He acknowledged Lieutenant Grenn's mature face on the screen with a small nod.

"Congratulations on your promotion _Admiral _Onasi, But I'm afraid I have to report bad news." Carth's face was impassive as Grenn continued. "The Jedi is no longer on Citadel Station."

Carth wasn't surprised. Jedi had a knack for squeezing out of situations. "Do you know where the Exile is?" 

"Exile?" Carth knew the Lieutenant's sharp mind was already making connections. "We… We have no information on her whereabouts, Sir."

Carth massaged his temple. "Don't worry Lieutenant. The Republic has assumed a "wait and see" approach on the Jedi topic. We'll just have to wait to see how this situation ends. Over and out"

Grenn signed off with a smart salute and the telecomm screen faded to black. Carth turned off the lights in the room and made his way over to his unmade bunk in the dark. The Republic could have used the Jedi's help in the constant struggle within the galaxy but Carth had wanted to meet her personally. He knew she was one of the Jedi who had been with Revan during the Mandalorian Wars. General Mærin Banyin, the woman whose decisions turned the tide of battle countless times. If she knew Revan, she might know where Revan was now.

Carth slid off his boots, trying to swallow the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.

His thoughts – they were always hardest to deal with at night. There was nothing to occupy his time, nothing else to occupy his mind. Empty and dark, the night never kept his mind from straying to memories of her.

_Revan._

He rubbed his face tiredly with his palms and let himself sink deeper in self pity. He wanted her to be here, with him. He wanted to hear her loud, beautiful laugh ring out through the room and he wanted to touch her face to make sure that she was real and not some wonderful dream he had made up.

He wanted to see her bright amber eyes, always so full of emotion and life, and the smile he was sure she kept just for him. He wanted to run his hands through her dark hair, breathe in her scent. He wanted to be able to lie next to her each night and feel her warmth at his side.

_She's not here._ The truth cut at Carth like a blade, just as it did every night, every day, every moment of his existence. His mind was spent on worrying about her, wondering if she was still safe, wondering when she would come back. 

Wondering if the Exile knew where Revan was.

Four years. Four years, and he was still waiting for her to fly back to him on the Ebon Hawk. The lump in Carth's throat grew larger, threatening to choke him.

He stared up at the blank metal ceiling and silently begged the Force for a miracle.


	15. dear readers

Dear Readers,  
After some extreme and thoughtful consideration, I have decided to cut the current version of "Atrisia" short and revamp the entire thing. This means that the current "Atrisia" (version 1.0) will no longer be updated, either at or blogspot, and that you, as readers, will not be able to see the material until I have completed the entire story. I realize that this comes as a disappointment/inconvenience to most, if not all of you, and I apologize that I begun this story and posted it without looking ahead to the future of it. However, I ask you to please understand that there are many reasons for my decision. The main one is, frankly, that I am not happy with the current story because I don't believe I wrote it to the best of my abilities. For you, the readers, I want to write it the best I can. Hopefully you'll be happy with the results.  
Things that are destined to be revamped:  
Characters: all major and some minor characters will be developed extensively so that they 'live' and react like true people - no more mary sues!  
Plot/storyline: major and minor plot points will actually be created and the storyline will be comprised of 3 arcs. New characters will be introduced as main characters, each with their own storyline which will be tied in with the major/original/main storyline.  
Themes: mature, darker themes will be created and used to go with the underlying themes in the actual game Other: better developed planets, new red-herrings & plot twists, premonitions, and so much more!

Although it sounds like I'm advertising a new videogame, these things actually will come to pass for the revamped "Atrisia." If you're freaking out thinking that I'll remake exile/new characters/etc, don't worry, because the main premise of characters will stay the same - they'll just gain a lot of history/emotions/beliefs/etc.  
I'm really sorry for posting the beginnings of this story and leading you all on like this. The new "Atrisia" will be better, I promise, and I'm doing it for you. I'll keep the current version up on both sites & blogspot), with updates on the new version appearing at juicy pomegranate. Eventually, my plan is to have a real site dedicated to "Atrisia," but I'm tackling the writing first.  
If you have any other questions, feel free to email me or send me an IM through AIM (ivory chopstick).

Thank you,

bri 


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